


worship at your altar

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Altar Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Choking, Forest Sex, Hemipenis, M/M, Minor Violence, Smut, nagas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry finds himself drawn to an old altar in the woods and as a consequence comes into contact with the one it is devoted to. Their friendship deepens and Harry is altogether too happy to be the newest sacrifice at this shrine.





	worship at your altar

**Author's Note:**

> It was funny re-reading this, I realised how much of this was influenced by reading Pon Farr fics from the Star Trek fandom, from the extra slick in the genitals to the heat of the mating season. I had always wanted to read back over this and make some tweaks but only found the time to recently. It's short but sweet and laid the groundwork for a lot of the headcanons I have surrounding Naga!Voldemort.
> 
> I'm not gifting this to them, but I do dedicate this to Mik who has stuck with me and encouraged me to keep writing when I didn't want to. Love you <3

Harry discovers the altar by accident.

He had been following a faint, overgrown trail in the local forest. At times he had lost it, stumbling blindly until it surfaced once more. The path that had once been trodden down by the many that had followed it was grown over in their absence.

Weak rays of sunlight highlighted the dust motes in the air swirling around the long forgotten shrine. He circled around the cave slowly and peeked at old dusty candles that hadn’t been lit for aeons, the fabric bunting each with a different snaking shape stitched on and the altar in the middle with rusty knife, the deep dark carmine stain of old blood that coated the stone surface. 

Littered around the edges were dirty bones and upon the walls were strange paintings, pigment smeared by hand to paint the world around the ancient people that must have worshipped here. 

Harry didn’t dare touch anything, the sacredness of it all choking him as he fled.

He visits again, a fortnight later. Strange dreams had infected his mind, all focusing on this winding path to this lonely altar. A voice beckoned him to come back, night after night -- and so he did. 

From the shadows of the old altar came the same raspy voice from his dreams. 

“Hello, stay a while - it has been so long since anyone has come here.” 

Harry obliged. He sat cross-legged at the border of the end of the path facing the cave and talked with the spirit that resided inside. He comes to visit regularly after that and he tells the voice all his worries and sorrows, thankful to have someone who won’t judge, who will be happy just to hear the sound of his voice. 

One day he comes walking down the track, his visits have beaten the path back into the earth, nature remembering how it was once a road for worshippers, the muscle memory of trampled ground reemerging.

Summer is coming to an end, and the voice reveals itself. 

He’s sublime. A wiry torso tapered into a thick coil of tail, hidden strength visible in every move. His face is flat and gaunt, no visible nose but two thin nostril slits, his sense of smell however, came from the flickering forked tongue that constantly tasted the air.  
And he holds Harry’s hand so softly as he tells him they won’t be able to see each other for a while, the colder months sneaking in and his need for warmth sending him into the lull of hibernation. 

He cannot leave the altar, cannot come home with Harry to the warmth, but he will be fine he promises, he has survived centuries of frost and biting cold and he will meet him again come spring. 

They spend the last moments they have together that year, really talking - face to face. They also walk through the forest together, cutting an odd sight with the impossibly tall Naga towering over the short and slight stature of Harry. 

Harry was initially worried about meeting other people on the trails but his friend has reassured him, telling him that it was even a fluke he had come into the forest with the general population put off encroaching in the depths of the forest with the eerie feel of unwelcome in the air. 

Harry shrugged at this revelation, citing that feeling unwelcome wasn’t unusual to him, maybe he hadn’t felt it the same why the others would. His friend has frowned at that, face turned from Harry’s eyes.

Their favourite spot to spend time was by the river that ran almost halfway through the forest. The break in the trees let the sun full beat down on the earth and in most particular, a large flat rock that by the time they arrived there past midday made a lovely place to snooze. 

His new friend - call me Voldemort - had easily accepted having Harry nap beside him, coiling around him with his long tail looping through Harry’s legs. He had sighed into the expanse of Harry’s soft stomach complimenting him on his warmth. 

When Harry had asked him one day about the worship that had taken part at the temple, he had said the river was part of it, bathing those who came, to cleanse them both in body and spirit. 

They would then burn incense and herbs at the altar and pray. Voldemort’s eyes are glazed over with a faraway look as he comments about how he can still smell the scents that had been dedicated to him. 

And Harry asks another question - what did they worship you for? 

This time Voldemort gets a shining glint in his eyes as his eyes seems to look deep into Harry’s. 

Fertility, the naga says, of the land, of the womb, the abundance of life was what they always wanted. His blessing was always enjoyable he says, a smirk curling around his mouth, but always a very long experience. 

He smiles like he's just told a secret, and Harry doesn't understand why. 

Harry supposes it should have been weird how easily attached he got to the monster that resided in the forest. But he misses the comfort of somebody he could just escape to. 

Throughout winter he sits by a window in his house that faces the forest, that he can just about see on the horizon. He mostly spends it reading but sometimes all he can do is lean his head against the coldness of the glass and sigh heavily until it's all fogged up and he can’t see it anymore. It weighs heavy on his mind leaving his friend to the ravages of winter.. 

And as the first frost starts melting, Harry returns to the forest for the first time. It's a new year and although he is certain the snake-man in the forest doesn’t celebrate Christmas, he’s brought him a present.

It had sat under the tree untouched and even after the tree had to be thrown out, he had kept the present safe in his room. 

When he finally arrives at the cave, snowdrops dot the ground surrounding it and dew coats the new green of the plants around him. But there is no one to be seen and his heart drops out of his chest. 

“I’m too soon,” he says out loud, trying to reassure himself. That's all it was, he was just too soon, Voldemort must still be hibernating and not- 

Harry takes a deep breath to calm himself, replaying the memory of Voldemort reassuring him about his winter sleep. 

He leaves the present on the altar, hoping his friend will get it. He lingers for a while, fingers playing with the thin tissue paper he had wrapped his gift in, before moving on, casting wistful glances behind him until the altar is completely out of sight. 

He gives himself a week before rushing back. 

He walks quicker along the path now, bounding along, running his hands through the wildflowers that bordered the path. The smell of freshness is in the air, and Harry can feel the new life awakening all around him. 

But he arrives at an empty cave once more. However, his present is gone and that gives him hope, a stupid grin occupying his face and is so distracted that he doesn’t have time to react to the hand that grabbed him by the throat and press him against the wall. 

It was Voldemort, but there was a wildness to his eyes and he’s thinner than before. 

His cheekbones sharply jutted out the side of his face, and Harry would have been able to count every single one of his ribs if he wasn’t distracted by the fact he had been pressed up against the cave wall. 

Voldemort’s face was very close to his, and his tongue flickered gently brushing against Harry’s jaw. Harry desperately clawed at the arm that held him, trying to choke out a plea. 

Finally, Voldemort seemed satisfied in whatever he had been doing, and eased his grip just enough for Harry to catch his breath. 

“What the fuck,” Harry chokes out, hand still clasped around Voldemort’s, taking great heaving breaths as tears gathered unshed at the corner of his eyes. 

Voldemort ignored him, rubbing his face along Harry’s cheek, thick tail coming to coil completely around his legs, trapping him and flexing every once in a while reminding Harry just how strong the monster holding him was. 

“Didn’t smell right,” Voldemort murmurs. His hand releases the neck to instead grip at his hair, pulling his head back and exposing the pale column of Harry's throat. He licks along one side before totally releasing his grip on Harry's head. 

Pulling back, he stares at Harry deep in his eyes, the slits of his eyes just a thin streak of black on red. 

“You are mine you know,” he hissed, tongue flickering once more, his thumb brushing over Harry’s bottom lip, “you were mine as soon as you set foot in this forest.” 

Harry’s breath hitched, his body went still. 

His green eyes were wide and darted about. In this moment he was totally reminded that 

Voldemort wasn’t just another friend he had, he was an ancient forest spirit once worshipped by Harry’s ancestors and for good reason. 

Voldemort released him completely, tail unwrapping from his body. Harry collapsed against the cave wall, still frozen in his shock. 

Voldemort slid over to where the present sat, picking it up delicately, running one hand across the surface of the tissue paper. He slowly opens it, letting the wrapping float to the floor as he holds up what Harry had got him. 

A black velvet cloak, unlined and with a simple clasp near the neck. He looks questioningly at Harry, who shakes himself out of his stupor to shyly say he wanted something that would keep Voldemort warm while also keeping his freedom to move. Voldemort comes to rest next to him at the wall, the fabric of the cloak pooled in his lap while he pulls Harry down to rest his head on it. He strokes Harry's face gently wiping away the tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. 

Harry never brings up the near strangulation again - more eager to welcome the regular appearance of the forest spirit into his life that he tried to ignore it, hiding the dark fingerprints that appeared around his neck like a collar with high-necked shirts and scarves, until they faded. 

He brings more and more gifts to Voldemort now - exotic fruits that he had never seen before and different scented candles in stained glass jars that delight the naga with their colours and smells. He brings him woollen blankets and helps him shed the skin on his tail, lighting a small fire to warm water that helps soothe the itch of shedding. 

Harry also helps finally clean the altar, sweeping away the debris that had gathered on the stone floor, washing the old bunting carefully in the river and dumping the bones elsewhere in the forest. He even learns how to set traps, bringing rabbits, weasels and stoats to help Voldemort regain the weight lost in the long winter months. 

Voldemort is equally eager to see him, touching him more and more and demanding more of his time. Harry flourished under this attention, isolating himself from his friends more and more, all just to trek into the forest to see Voldemort, sometimes even camping over the weekend there. 

And when Voldemort started pulling away suddenly, Harry was concerned.

Despite his continuous interrogating, the naga wasn’t forthcoming in what was wrong until Harry broke down and yelled at him, asking what was wrong. 

Quick as a flash, Voldemort had him pinned against the cave wall again mirroring that encounter Harry had tried so hard to forget, this time however Harry’s face pressed against the cold harsh surface as his arm was twisted and held to his back. 

“Don’t ever presume to yell at me,” Voldemort hissed, his voice darker than Harry had ever heard it. He realised at once, he had crossed some invisible line. 

“What is wrong,” he continued, his voice icy, “is that I am approaching mating season.” 

Harry gulped hard at those words, an sudden heat igniting in his stomach at what that meant. He cleared his throat before asking

“And what does that have to do with not being as comfortable around me?” 

“It means,” Voldemort said, quietly, his mouth right next to Harry’s ear as he pressed himself against the human, chest to back, hip to butt, “that every time you so much as brush your hand against mine, I am fighting every animal instinct in my body not to just take you there and then.” 

Harry’s mouth dropped in shock, a light blush working its way onto his cheeks. Voldemort turned him around. Hands placed either side of Harry’s head, Voldemort leant forwards, his face mere inches from Harry’s. His eyes seemed to trace Harry’s features.

“Oh,” he said softly, “If only you knew what I’ve dreamed of doing to you.” 

Harry’s courage seemed to grip him in that moment, the confession that dropped from Voldemort’s lips driving him on - he surged forward and grabbed either side of Voldemort’s face, closed his eyes and kissed him deeply. Voldemort caught him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, keeping him close. 

Breaking the kiss, Harry panted heavily. His head caught up with his actions and he realised in horror what he had done. He batted at the arm to his right that caged him to the wall. 

Voldemort growled, “Don’t think you’re getting away that easily.” 

Harry was scooped up by the naga, only to be placed back down on the altar. Voldemort roughly pulled Harry’s top off, immediately taking one nipple into his mouth while his hand played with the other, pulling and rubbing it between thumb and finger. Harry eyes closed slowly as his head bent backwards, hands on Voldemort’s head as he was pleasured.

Voldemort’s other hand was preoccupied with unbuckling his jeans, unzipping them and yanking them down. He only paused in his ministrations to allow Harry to wiggle out of both them and his boxers before flinging them into one corner of the shrine.

The Naga’s hands glided over Harry’s thighs. He gently grasped Harry's half-hard cock, working it until it filled and flushed red. 

"It's so small," he cooed into the flesh of Harry's neck, tongue tasting the sweet taste of Harry's flesh. Harry turned a deep crimson at this, spluttering that he was average sized. 

"Oh, Harry to humans you are," Voldemort chuckled, twisting his hand over the head of Harry's cock, "to a Naga like me, you're so cute." 

Harry moaned weakly into the hard shoulder of the forest spirit. Voldemort stopped stroking him to cup his head pushing it backwards, and prying open Harry's mouth. From his fangs he dripped a pearly substance into it. 

Swallowing it, Harry was instantly filled with a buzz, and the heat in his groin amplified, filling him with a desperate need. 

"What was that?" he asked, groaning as he grinded himself against Voldemort, moaning wantonly. 

"My venom can act as an aphrodisiac, when I want it to," Voldemort said amusedly, resuming stroking Harry's cock, eyes fixed on Harry's face as it openly showed the pleasure he was feeling. 

The aphrodisiac worked quickly through Harry's bloodstream and he was quickly brought near to completion, every pump of Voldemort's hand bringing him to new heights of pleasure. Harry stuffed the back on his hand into his mouth as he came, back arching off the stone surface of the altar. 

"Yessss," Voldemort hissed, keeping the same pace in his motions, making Harry moan louder and louder, "come for me, I want to hear you scream." 

Harry slammed back down onto the altar, heaving in great breaths as his orgasm receded, the waves of pure pleasure getting weaker and weaker. He gripped tightly Voldemort's shoulders as he pulled himself up. 

Voldemort's cocks had emerged from their slit, the heat descending onto him. Copious amounts of slick was already being excreted from the pointed head. They were a pinkish colour, and were thin but long. Harry's mouth became dry at the sight of them and a curious hand reached out to grasp one of them. 

Voldemort's eyes seem to haze over, his conscious retreating as his baser animal instinct took over - the sight of an eager mate in front of him making him excited. 

Pulling Harry of the altar, he made him stand before turning around, bending him over and presenting his hole to the hungry gaze of the naga.

Collecting slick from his cocks, he rubbed one finger over the puckered rim. Harry pushed back into the slight touch, the aphrodisiac in his system making him eager to be split open. 

Voldemort slowly entered one finger, kissing along Harry's shoulder. Thrusting it in and out, with the copious amounts of slick making it easier for him, he was quickly able to add in another finger and then another, the aphrodisiac working to relax the muscles in Harry.

The naga rubbed one cock enthusiastically across the seam of Harry's arse. Voldemort gave a low growl as he watched Harry press back against it, a plethora of pleas spilling from his mouth.

"Give it to me, please, I need your cock, feel so empty, please please," he babbled, lost in the ecstasy of pleasure. 

"Good boy," Voldemort returned, "so eager for my cocks to be in you." 

Pushing one cock in all the way to the root, they moaned in unison. Voldemort kept his hips still, eager to mate but not wanting to hurt the human boy that had submitted so easily beneath him. 

However, Harry whimpered as he fucked himself back on his naga's cock. 

With his right hand on Harry's hip, he used the left to gather more slick from his other cock, coating his fingers again to push in one alongside his sheathed cock. Harry's arms scrabbled on the stone surface as his hole was stretched even more, whimpering as jolts of pleasure zapped through his body. 

Voldemort opened him more and more, adding fingers, twisting and scissoring. Soon, he was able to slide his other cock into Harry, stuffing him full. He slowly drove his cocks in and out of Harry, savouring the feeling of the tight, twitching hole encasing them. 

Faster and faster he ploughed into Harry, deep growls torn from his lips, the mammalistic heat of Harry sending him wild, the scent of slick, cum and sweat thick in the air. 

Harry reached down to stroke his own cock in the harsh rhythm set by Voldemort, and with the aphrodisiac still coursing through his system, came hard splattering come all across the altar. His orgasm made him tighten around Voldemort, who groaned joining Harry in climax, come flooding Harry. 

Harry didn't even have time to recover before he was pulled into a hidden den-like room at the very back of the cave, having never noticed it before due to it being concealed. 

The heat lasted for a week, the last day spent lazily rutting against each other. Harry's hole was loose, leaking cum at every shift of his legs. He hadn't been allowed to move from the nest, hand fed food that Voldemort scavenged for him when his mating instincts died down enough to allow him to leave the cave long enough to find any. 

When the heat had finally finished he departed for home. Every step away from the forest making him feel more and more empty. 

So over the next course of the week he quit his job, settled any loose ends and on Friday morning, locked his house for the last time, everything he decided he needed in a backpack. 

He ran along the path leading to the shrine. 

Upon seeing his naga, he threw himself into his arms, burying his face into the pale crook of neck. 

Voldemort's arms wrapped around Harry, tightly hugging him. 

"You're only mine now," Voldemort said, a wicked grin splitting his lips. 

"Mine, mine, mine."


End file.
